Keeping Busy
by QuasiOuster
Summary: Daryl has found a home and a new kind of life at the prison. But there's one thing missing and he's determined to do his part in fixing that. Companion to Present and Accounted For but from Daryl's point of view. Takes place between seasons 3 and 4.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I do not own any part of The Walking Dead franchise nor do I profit from any of these musings. **_

_**Presented for you reading pleasure (or not) is a companion to Present and Accounted For but from Daryl's POV. I'd highly suggest reading that beforehand otherwise the events will seem confusing and incomplete. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy! **_

* * *

**Chapter One**

It comes to him one day after seeing a reminder of her.

He is in C block doing some errand or going from one task to another. The day isn't as busy as he normally likes it to be but that's to be expected. There can't be something 24/7 to keep folks' minds off of how different the world is now. Even though they're living as comfortably as possible, it's still a damn sight harder than how things used to be.

Well, that's true for almost everyone. From where he's standing, the world went even further to hell from what it was. It just made him that much more prepared.

That thought passes through his mind right as he is walking by her cell and he realizes that he misses her. A lot. She too understands how the changes in the world around them also made them more powerful than they could have ever thought. He pauses at the entrance to her permanent layover space but he doesn't linger too long. Can't have people thinking he's pining, not that anyone knows about the more private and primal kind of company they keep with each other.

Instead, he pushes back memories of her because who knows when she'll wander back this way. He doesn't want to torture himself with thoughts of how her presence makes a difference to him.

After checking in with Tyreese and Glenn, he decides to finally rearrange the supply stash in Tower 3 that he's been meaning to do for the last couple of weeks. Subconsciously, he's probably been waiting on Michonne to return and lend a hand; his attempts to stop thinking about her give him that last push to just take care of the task himself. So he heads out to the storage room with a foul disposition, assuring no one would follow and subject themselves to his grumpiness.

It's not that he doesn't like people, it's that he's used to spending a lot of time by himself, roaming the woods looking for food or fleeing from trouble. Being on the Council and helping to run things at the prison is an unexpected kind of gig for him and really weird in some ways but it doesn't feel wrong. He likes contributing and having his say about how to keep the group safe. He makes sure to do his share of work rather than telling others what to do and that's meant getting to know a lot of folks around the prison. It's crazy to him how much he enjoys that part, maybe because he'd never gotten the chance to be this person in his other life. For the first time, people don't look at him and see this piece of trash. They consider him someone trustworthy and good. One of them.

Daryl works for a while in the storage area, enjoying the stagnant warmth of the enclosed room and the blind focus the errand affords him.

Despite how boring the task is, he gets into it. It's satisfying how much they'd looted and scrounged and repurposed to give themselves a chance to make a decent life at the prison. In the room, he shuffles around a nice stash of building supplies and makeshift tools. There are light bulbs and batteries, spare parts and broken furniture waiting for a new calling. When moving a box full of broken screens, he jostles a pile of grubby sheets, knocking over the top set. The smile creeps across his lips before he can stop it.

He remembers that sheet. And so again, comes images of Michonne.

She's a quiet woman, thoughtful. One of those people you know has a shit-load of sense and the brains to go along with it. She's never said anything but he knows her life had been very different before—nice probably, not like his. It is evident in the way she spends time looking through bookshelves or checking out the artwork when they're out on a run and have a few minutes to spare. There is nothing in a pantry that mystifies her, from the low-budget processed cheese he grew up with to the stupidest sounding fancy shit they run across in the upscale places. For his troubles, she's turned him on to the usefulness of agave nectar and flax seeds—he loves the former but only tolerates the latter.

But she doesn't mind learning about the wilder stuff he's more familiar with, herbs and plants and all the animals they can trap and eat. There are kills that he's never gotten her to embrace, yet she'll try anything once.

He often wonders how she's learned to survive so thoroughly.

Dealing with women isn't really Daryl's strong suit. He can never tell when he's supposed to make a move or when that feeling in the pit of his stomach is lust or just some kind of weird fascination. Female attention makes him self-conscious, something that Carol uses to her advantage, although not in a bad way. She likes to tease him about what a catch he is but it sounds like fool's talk to him. He's never been that kind of guy and he didn't see their current circumstances changing that much. In his other life, the girls he and Merle would hook up with were easy in every sense of the word. There was no worrying about courtship or marriage, just getting off. Given how bleak their lives can seem now if you think on it too hard, it's actually surprising to him that more people aren't running around fucking just for kicks. But nothing is predictable when it comes to the end of the world.

And, anyway, isn't that what he and Michonne are doing together?

It doesn't seem right to think of it that way, as just some meaningless hookup they indulge in out of desperation. It is both something more complicated yet also less at the same time.

She'd offered to pass that rainy afternoon with a bit of sexual companionship and he'd gotten a familiar tightness in his groin and gut, made worse by the fact that he'd been trying not to dwell on how appealing it would be to see her naked and moist with rainwater. When he'd tossed her his vest to cover herself, he'd thought it would bring him some relief. But the way she surrounded herself in that extension of him caused him to harden instantly. By the time she'd climbed onto him a few moments later, he'd been ready for her, maybe not emotionally but certainly physically. And she'd tasted so good coated in that sheen of nature's mist.

Daryl shakes his head of this distraction. Any more of it and he'll really be in a world of pain. The last thing he needs is to get all horny and heated right now. So he keeps on moving around his supplies and focusing on finishing the job before the sun goes down. He only has so much daylight left judging by the slim brightness seeping into the room.

So lost in thought, he doesn't hear the soft footsteps of someone approaching. When he does pick up on another presence in the space, annoyance flares at having his isolation disturbed. But what can you do?

He turns to see her silhouetted in the doorway, blocking out the light while replacing it with a brightness that warms him all the same.

Before he can censor himself, he curses at the way she, again, manages to bypass his instincts and sneak up on him when his back is turned. Yet the pleasure surfaces at her unexpected appearance and he's grinning in response as well. She's returning his show of happiness with a mutual warmth. In his mind, two distinct words accompany his excitement:

She's home.

TBC …


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

There's still light coming through the door but it's fading, not that Daryl notices the shadows deepening in the musty room.

He has her pinned against the wall and is kissing his way from her mouth to her cheek to the soft curve of her neck. Without even thinking on it too much, he finds the zipper to her vest and pulls it down. He can't wait to get a feel of her road-dusted skin. When he succeeds in peeling off that first layer, Michonne digs her hand into his shoulder, an invitation of sorts. Before he can even get a decent taste of her, the woman has taken a fistful of his hair and dragged him back to her mouth. Even though she'd gotten the drop on him then, he pushes against her, as good a reminder as any that he knows how to take what he wants from this encounter as well.

He thinks that this day is turning out to be a mighty fine one after all.

Part of what feeds his urgency is that he'd just been thinking about her earlier, so hungry for her and missing her presence. Then she shows up like a damn psychic dream, bearing gifts and talking shit. Their back and forth with each other is a kind of foreplay. She challenges him. Needles at him until he strikes out or vice versa. With anyone else, that type of aggravation would end in a world of hurt. With Michonne, he prefers the alternative. When she provokes him, it's liable to end up with the two of them naked and sweaty.

After he exposes her a bit more so he could feel her softness pressed against him, he moves his hands to her ass and squeezes. He's always thought himself a man who appreciates a nice rack above anything else but that's because he'd never seen or felt a backside as glorious as hers. Of course, other parts of her are pretty satisfying to him too.

Her deep breaths hit his cheek as she pulls away to gather herself. He returns to tasting the salty smoothness of her neck, burying his face into her body so that he can get a good grip on her with his teeth. When she confirms that there's no telling how long they'll have this place to themselves, he takes it as a sign to step up the action.

He's barely got her belt off when she's reminding him that they may want a bit more privacy for what they're about to do. Daryl's at a place where he doesn't give a shit who sees them together. Yet he'll surely regret that if it comes to pass, dealing with the nosiness of their friends.

Besides, she's noisy.

It can be an inconvenience when it comes to discretion, the moans and sighs and whimpers she cannot suppress. But it's also a sign that he's doing everything right. It is desperate how much he needs to hear it from her. And he's grown to love those sounds, crave them, even.

Still, Daryl teases her about it and gets a dismissive leer in return. He decides that her smartass response will earn her a little punishment when he gets his hands back on her. One self-conscious joke three weeks ago about her and Rick hooking up and now it's her go-to jab at him.

As he stands at the doorway, eager to shut the two of them inside so they can get on with their reunion, he hears voices and footsteps in the distance. A peek around the door reveals Tyreese and Glenn headed right for them. The hardness in his lower half throbs and he adjusts himself, not bothering to hide the scowl on his face at the interruption. Behind him, he can see that Michonne hears them too and is rebuttoning her pants and zipping her vest. Her coolness about the development only annoys him further. When they stroll in and make pleasant conversation, not realizing what they've interrupted, she doesn't even blink about it.

With every spare emotion, he wills them to get the hell out so he and Michonne can get back to pawing on each other. His brain has already started running with the things he can do to get her worked up and vocal for him. He doesn't even register what they hell his two friends are going on about as they chat with Michonne, although he does straighten up his face when she silently chastises him for sulking. The men slobber all over the new gear Michonne brought back; Daryl tries not to slobber over Michonne as she stands by looking formidably sexy.

She can try to play it cool but she'd been so ready for him too.

After about five minutes, he finally sees Michonne getting antsy as well. She probably also thought the two men would be quick about their business and then they could pick up where they left off. But the more they linger, talking through whatever project they have planned and finding new things to think about based on what was available in the storeroom, the more it's clear that his time is running out with Michonne. The light will be mostly gone in another five minutes when the setting sun disappears behind the building.

So when Tyreese and Glenn finally get what they need, there's no room for him and Michonne to feign a reason to stay behind. They reluctantly follow. When he tries to catch her eye, thinking they can find them another spot, he sees her yawn and lets the matter drop.

It troubles him though. Sure she's here now but, with her, there's no telling when she'll up and leave. You have to catch her when she's right in front of you or she'll be gone the next second. And with him aching to get his hands on her real bad, it darkens his mood that he is still standing there wanting her.

They go their separate ways and Daryl doesn't see her for the rest of the evening. After dinner he goes looking for her again while everyone lingers around the common area to clean and catch up. Poking his head into her cell, he finds her fast asleep, burrowed under a blanket but with her arm dangling off the edge.

He creeps forward and almost reaches out to stroke her full cheek. It's scary to watch her sleep, her body so still. It reminds him of how much death they'd all seen and how terrible it would be never to watch her lucid eyes open on him again, to never glimpse her take him in with exasperation or humor or passion. He pulls the blanket up over her shoulder and tucks it around her, thinking about the times he's done the same thing with the leather vest he's currently wearing.

Backing up out of the cell, of course, a clean getaway would have been too much to ask for. Carl is standing a few feet away, smirking entirely too knowingly for a boy his age.

"What you laughing at?" Daryl asks. His words are soft so as not to disturb the sleeping woman he'd just left. It's a ridiculous thing to say since he knows what has the boy so amused.

Carl shakes his head and backs away. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

TBC …


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

After that first time together with her in that rainstorm, Daryl made it a personal mission not to let Michonne catch him off his guard again. About a week later, he found her down in the tombs storing some of the heavier winter gear. She looked up at his approach and then proceeded with her task. By the time he reached her side, she'd raised herself up and flashed that warm, inviting grin he saw more often from her these days.

At the greeting, he pulled her into the empty cell littered with boxes and equipment and the spare blankets she'd just shoved into the area. She allowed him to hold onto her hand as he led her deeper into the space. Although it had taken all of his courage to do it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Her immediate response got his heart pounding.

"How you feel 'bout round two?" he asked as he pulled away.

Michonne caressed his neck and head pecked him on the chin, an unexpected but cute gesture that he rather liked. "I feel pretty good about it. Let's do it." Frank and upfront. He'd always liked that about her.

She tipped over the topmost blanket on the pile she'd just deposited in the room and drew him down to the ground with her. After they'd made quick and dirty love on the hard, dusty floor, he'd draped his vest around her to stave off the chill, reminded of how sexy she'd looked in it the first time he'd offered. She must have remembered as well as she snuggled into it and lay beside him for a few peaceful moments. Then they'd both risen and dressed.

For days after, he'd felt great. Whatever it was that they had going on with each other was invigorating.

* * *

Neither were the sentimental type but they'd taken to hooking up on nights before she'd leave for a solo run.

It was supposed to hold them over while she was gone since they'd come to really enjoy the sex they were having on the sly. It was unclear when an excuse to get in one last roll in the hay turned into a ritual. On those occasions, one or both of them would try out something new on the other: a slow undressing, a new position.

And one time, she'd surprised him with something altogether different.

"Are you in the mood for challenge?" she'd asked at dinner. He'd complained earlier about how bored he was after a planned run had been cancelled due to bad weather.

He smirked at her. "From you? Bring it on."

What ensued was a sexy but strange adventure where she'd played the part of his prey and made him track her all over the prison to earn his trophy. She'd teased him at dinner, carefully touching him when no one was looking. Then she'd enticed him from far away, seemingly harmless gestures of ribbing him in that way that riled him up or offering an "accidental" exposure of her smooth back where her shirt had risen at the hip of her obscenely tight pants. He loved the view of her from behind so she'd known exactly what she was doing before leaving the room and prompting him to give chase.

Following after her, he'd see signs of her direction, a light turned on here, a strategically placed condom on his bed after she'd passed by his cell. He'd lost her for a bit but a message passed from an unsuspecting passerby got him back on her scent: Michonne had been spotted heading out to Tower 3 with a flashlight, searching for something before her run.

He'd picked up her trail again and gotten that rush from when he'd track deer through the woods and was about to go in for the kill. They too were strong and beautiful creatures that he'd come to both crave and respect, even as he meant to conquer them. You had to be patient and you had to have a will of steel to best an adversary like that. They'd run off on you if you pushed forward too hard and they were clever enough to lead you into a chase and then just disappear into nature, leaving you wanting and frustrated. But when you caught it, hell, that was a sweet victory, one that garnered celebration and reverence and the promise of some damn fine spoils of the hunt. And wasn't nothing more satisfying than stripping your prize down and making use of everything presented to you. It wasn't about flaunting what you'd captured. It was about the timeless method of catching something that could sustain you fully and knowing not just anyone could harness that kind of force of nature.

Taking down a creature so powerful and illusive made you feel like a man who was worth something, a man with skills.

Once he had her in his sights, she standing in the mostly darkened tower room with her vest unzipped and slacks hung low on her hips, he'd shown no mercy. He swooped in and proved to her how a good chase could bring out the best in a hunter like him. Survival of the fittest took on a whole new meaning after that.

It was always hot coming together with her and it always felt like if it were their last time together, then they'd gotten their money's worth.

And who was he kidding? She'd been hunting him all along.

* * *

They hadn't been on a run in a while but they fell right back into the swing of things. Those habits they'd built forming the efficient team they'd become had taken hold.

He hadn't wanted to fool around while they were out. They got plenty of action back at the prison. They'd really only gone at it that one time on the road and that was because they'd had time to kill. As much as he loved the freedom of being out in the world sometimes, there was now the reality that he had a lot to go home to. A lot to protect. That sense of unease had crept into his thinking and wouldn't leave.

The thing with Michonne, though, was that if she sets her mind to something, there wasn't a whole lot anyone could do to turn her around on it. And as they scoured the cabin for anything useful, she'd set her mind on him. It was hard to feel horny in a place like the one they'd found, some moonshine din that felt a little too familiar in the worst way possible. It was filthy and unsecure and altogether wrong.

Yet when she fixed that intense gaze of hers on him, he'd let her drag him into her arms before shifting her around and pushing her down on the table.

"There's only us right now. Nothing else but me and you." Michonne held his face in her hands and made him look at her.

He let her fingers stroke the roughened skin of his cheek. "Can't think 'a nothin' better," he replied, unsure of his words. But her gaze softened and she pulled him to her again. That was the right answer to the unspoken question between them.

He felt her legs wrap around him and, in that moment, they could have been in a shithole shack like the one he'd grown up in or in the fanciest hotel from before-times. All he cared to experience was this woman surrounding him. Everything else faded away in the midst of their gasps and grunts and muted pounding of bodies against each other as they balanced on an unstable kitchen table at a dirty hideout located in the middle of the woods.

Damn this woman could be persuasive.

* * *

After getting interrupted the day before, Daryl would not be denied. He found her midday, volunteering with some sort of task, probably for Hershel and Dr. S. He hadn't said a word, just led her to a spot where they could finish what they started. Whether she knew the gratifying effect the completion would have on him was unknown but she'd surrendered completely, letting him lead her to Tower 3.

As they came together, he wanted to hold her to him, keep her close so that whenever she had the urge to leave, she'd remember the feel of him. In his lust-addled mind, it would ease whatever anxiety had her running off. Her compliance led him to believe that anything was possible and that some day soon, he'd be able to have this whenever either of them felt the need. He wouldn't have to ache for it in those cold days he lay alone in his cell, wondering if she was safe and warm, knowing that she missed him too but wondering if she'd let it matter to her yet.

He was a patient man. Every encounter suggested that he was breaking her down. It was only a matter of time now. And he could hold off until she came around.

Yet even now as they moved against each other in sync, his desires intertwined and overlapped with every pulsing pleasure she ignited in him. He fought the compulsion to ask more of her.

_Can you feel that, Michonne? Are you ready to come with me? I'm waiting for you. I'll wait as long as you need._

After he'd pushed her to the edge, making her whimper and plead and moan, he'd left her with a lingering kiss and a few cursory words of affection, nothing too showy as that wasn't their way. He didn't know how long she was staying but if she rode through those gates in the next hour, it would be with a helluva welcome back and sendoff rolled into one.

And maybe it would get her thinking about whether enjoying her home could finally outweigh her reasons for chasing the winds swirling around a cold trail.

TBC …


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It is quiet, quieter than it has been in a long time. Everyone around the prison is stricken, worn down and devastated by the tiny cracks that crept into their peaceful enclave. There is nothing to say about it, nothing to reflect on. It's just tragic and fucked up.

Zach is dead and the run they'd been planning for weeks—the one that was supposed to provide a major surge in their supplies—had gone to complete shit.

But one thing feels right at this late hour: the body laying next to him in his bed.

This is a first for them. Their romps were always done in secret in some tucked away corner of the prison; they'd never committed to more than a casual conversation in each other's company when it came to their personal spaces. But tonight, he needs something and Michonne is there to provide it, openly and exposed.

They have also never lingered this long after having sex. They might take a few moments to get their bearings and allow their bodies to calm and cool off from what was always an energetic and physically demanding coupling. But after a few minutes, one or the other, but usually both of them, would quickly dress and return to whatever business they'd been about before their recreational diversion.

Tonight, though, they hold each other loosely, Daryl allowing his fingers to skim along the skin of her back that so turns him on. She, in turn, leans into him, not quite cuddled up to him but oh so close, overlapping slightly. Her arm is around him, dangled in lazy repose across his abdomen. The connection is different and new but it's nice too.

And with her, something new always means her time at the prison is growing short.

"You headin' out tomorrow?" If there's more bite to the question than usual, he can mask its presence behind so many other reasons besides the truth of his attachment to her.

Michonne closes her eyes and breathes softly into his arm. "Yeah." He can't stop the tension from gripping his muscles momentarily and she picks up on it as well. "Not Macon," she clarifies. "There are a few spots I keep on my radar and I'll check those out. I'd rather stay close." She doesn't mention why but he knows it's because of their scare today.

Daryl purses his lips but keeps quiet, glad she can't see the protest biting at the edges of his attention. In his mind, if she wants to stay close, she may as well just stay here. She won't want to hear that, though, and he isn't about pissing her off when he'd rather she continue to lay right where she is for the time being.

They remain in that position for some time, Michonne seeming uninterested in returning to her room and Daryl having no desire to kick her out. After a while, she closes her eyes and he studies her pretty face as it rests at his shoulder. She traces a scar at his side to let him know she is not sleeping, just resting.

"Hope you hurry back," he offers.

_I miss you when you're gone_, he wants to add but doesn't.

She squeezes him and leans over to kiss his chest, then his neck and finally his lips, a touch he holds on to for a few beats as he has his fill. When he releases her, she returns to lay at his shoulder and he closes his eyes along with her.

Every day he searches for ways to distract himself from the rot of the world around them. If he wants to stay sane, he needs to occupy his energy and give his day meaning so that he can keep pushing forward and help others do the same. Being on the Council and stepping up at the prison means reminding people that no matter how bad things get, they still have something to strive for.

Somehow, some way, she's becoming that for him. And the acceptance of it is scary, but not as much as he thought it'd be. Daryl is sure if he can get her to stick around for more than a few hours, she'll accept it too.

He'll make her see it.

Until then, he's glad she's here right now to keep him busy.

_End_


End file.
